Somebody That I Used to Know
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: It happened gradually, like a color gradient slowly fading from black to white. Friendship, companionship, bonding. It wasn't even really love if they looked at it closely enough. It was loneliness. John and Gideon meet each other purely by chance one night and a friendship begins to bloom, but relationships don't last forever. John/Gideon slash. Oneshot.


**Title: **Somebody That I Used to Know

**Rating: **T

**Warnings: **Slash, male/male relationship; angst; sadness.

**A/N: **This I wrote as a gift to my dear friend, Beth (xXxTearsOfTrueLovexXx) who I love very much, but at the moment am very angry at because she made me watch Supernatural and I can't seem to get my emotions in order at the moment.

And I'd like to make it clear**: THIS IS NOT A SONGFIC! **I just feel like the song sort of fits well with the story.

Still, this is Jason Gideon/John Winchester slash (because how awesome would that be?) and all I can say is I hope you like it Beth, it's just for you! And to everyone else, I hope you enjoy as well, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

First time writing for Supernatural, let me know how I did!

* * *

_"Now and then I think of when we were together  
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die  
Told myself that you were right for me  
But felt so lonely in your company  
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember"  
_Somebody That I Used to Know, - Gotye

* * *

**I.**

The night they met was like any other night for John Winchester and Jason Gideon. Except worse.

Jason had taken a flight from Quantico all the way to South Carolina to talk some sense into his son, Stephen's head and it was going about as well as any other argument they ever had went.

"Dad, I'm eighteen years old! I can do what I want with my life!"

"Not if you don't go to school, Stephen," Jason had insisted. He wasn't a man who got angry often, he always kept his emotions in check, but with Stephen, things were different. Stephen made everything more difficult and Jason just couldn't figure out why his son had to be so damn stubborn.

"Don't you understand that? You skip out on college and you can say goodbye to any future you might've had!"

"I don't want to go to college, Dad!" Stephen insisted, "I'm not like you, alright? I don't care about books and chess and goddamned classical music! I want to travel; I want to see the world –"

"How are you going to do anything if you can't get a job?" Jason demanded, "How are you going to earn a living without going to school?"

Stephen swallowed roughly, his fists clenched tight. He stood a good four inches taller than his father and despite Jason's years of FBI experience was also a fair bit leaner. But in his face and eyes his father's dogged spirit and stubbornness shone like diamonds.

"I wanna be an actor," he said stiffly, the words coming out through clenched teeth.

"An actor? Stephen, do you know how difficult it is to get an acting career? You need to think this through,"

"I have," Stephen snapped.

"Obviously not," Jason cut him off, "Now I want you to pack your bags and go back to school. That's where you belong, Stephen. Get a degree, a job –"

"I don't want that!" Stephen yelled, "Dad, when are you going to realize that just because you want something for me, doesn't me I agree? It's MY life!"

"Your mother would've wanted it," Jason's voice was quiet now, but still hard and a bit cold.

Stephen shook his head and closed his eyes, "Don't do that," he said, "Don't use her against me, Dad. Mom would've wanted me to be happy. That's what I'm doing. Making myself happy."

"College is important -!"

"To you!"

"For your future! I'm not asking you, Stephen. You're going back to that school. Tonight."

"No,"

Jason blinked, staring at his son, "What?"

"Dad, I'm not going back. Not tonight or ever," Stephen said, "You can't make me."

"Stephen, if you don't go back to that school you'll be throwing away everything. And I won't be there to pick up the pieces,"

"Fine," Stephen snapped, "I don't care, Dad. I'm not going back so get out. Just get the hell out!"

The argument went on for another fifteen minutes before Jason had finally had enough and left, slamming the door behind him as resolutely as he'd slammed the door on their relationship. If Stephen didn't want him in his life, then he'd just get out of it. He didn't have the patience to fight with him anymore.

Outside, the air was frigid and stiff and he tugged his coat tighter around himself. Stephen lived in a busy section of the small city, next door to a small motel. Everything was quiet for several minutes and Jason just stood outside, brooding and thinking. Definitely not calm enough to drive anywhere.

The quiet night was shattered minutes later when the motel door nearest him was suddenly thrown open and a boy, about Stephen's age, stormed out with a duffle bag over his shoulder.

"FINE!" he yelled, "I don't care anymore, Dad. I'm not doing this!"

A second later a man appeared in the door and another, younger man, behind him. "Sam, you walk away, don't even think about coming back!"

Sam was already halfway across the parking lot by then. "I WON'T!" he yelled over his shoulder and kept going.

The other boy pushed passed his father, running after Sam. "Sammy, wait! Don't go, c'mon, we need you out here! Sammy!"

"Let him go, Dean," the man said, his hands shaking a bit as he turned and kicked the open motel door.

"But, Dad –"

"I said let him go," his voice got a bit harsher and Dean glanced back at his brother one more time, shoulders slumping a bit as he watched him go.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, pushing past him again to get into the room. The man stood in the open door for a minute before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Jason tried to ignore the man and the night fell silent again. But he couldn't stop that odd tug he felt toward the stranger and after several minutes of uncomfortably tense silence, they began slowly gravitating toward each other.

It was Jason who broke the silence, "Your son?"

The man nodded, a dark smile on his face, "Yeah, my youngest. Sam. God, I swear, sometimes I don't what the hell happened to that boy."

Jason nodded, "Sounds like my son, Stephen," he said evenly. "Ever since he was a teenager, nothing I said or did made any difference to him."

"I know the feeling," the stranger said, "John Winchester."

"Jason Gideon," Jason introduced himself, shaking the man's hand and finding himself smiling, just a bit, despite the way his insides felt at that moment.

* * *

**II.**

They talked well into the night that night, about their children. Jason only had Stephen, but John had Dean and Sam. When John asked about Stephen's mother, he paled at Jason's answer.

"My wife… Elaine," he looked down at the ring on his finger and twisted it a bit, "She… died. Stephen was only six months old, there was some problem with the wiring and there was a fire…"

He had tears in his eyes, but banished them quickly. "I barely got Stephen out in time, I couldn't even see Elaine."

John didn't respond immediately, but when he did Jason's brows furrowed.

"Was the fire in Stephen's nursery?"

"…How did you…?"

"My wife, Mary, died the same way. In Sam's nursery… Jason, I think we need to talk."

* * *

**III.**

When John first told Jason about the thing that had killed his wife, their wives, Jason had thought he was crazy. And when he continued on, telling him about all the things that were out there, waiting in the dark, he was certain of it.

John gave him his cell number, insisting that he call if anything ever happened, but Jason was certain nothing ever would and he returned to Quantico the next day, eager to have it all done with.

Jason didn't get much sleep that night and at work his team was giving him odd looks. He didn't blame them, but he was certainly glad that they didn't ask any questions.

It was over a week before Jason called that number, a week of restless nights and half-disbelief.

Finally though, he did call John.

"…I want to know more about this," he said, "Tell me what's out there."

* * *

**IV.**

It started slowly, at first. Phone calls, occasionally emails whenever either of them could be bothered to touch a computer. Sometimes meetings if their jobs happened to coincide with one other, which happened more often than they'd have thought given the nature of their jobs.

Hunters always traveled, so did the BAU. In a way, it was a match made in heaven.

A year into their odd friendship, Jason hadn't ever been hunting with John, but he'd learned a lot about hunting and about the things John and his son, Dean, hunted.

It wasn't like love at first sight, there were no sparks to speak of. Just two lonely men who bonded over twin tragedies and family troubles. Two fathers who felt they'd failed their sons. Two husbands who'd lost the person they loved most.

So no, it wasn't immediate. It happened gradually, like a color gradient slowly fading from black to white. Friendship, companionship, bonding. It wasn't even really love if they looked at it closely enough.

It was loneliness.

Two lonely hearts who found each other and knitted together over time, finding someone they could lean on.

Neither of them was the most romantic of men, if you got right down to it. Not that they ever really talked much about that whole aspect of their relationship often.

"We can't keep doing this," John said one night, lying in bed next to Jason. Dean was absent from this particular trip, hunting something on his own in Oregon. John didn't let Dean go out hunting alone often, but Dean had pointed out that he _was_ twenty-four years old now. He could handle a hunt alone.

Jason hadn't responded at first, staring at the ceiling. "Is it wrong?"

"It's not that," John said quietly. "You know the life I live. This won't last. It can't."

Jason smiled, "You know the life I live," he said, "The BAU isn't exactly the easiest department to work for."

John smiled, "It's going to fall apart,"

"So we'll pick up the pieces when it does,"

* * *

**V.**

It was almost four years before things fell apart. And they had been the best four years either of them had had in a long time.

"You should see this kid, John," Jason said one night on one of their long phone calls. "He's genius! I've never seen someone so brilliant. The things he does, what he knows… It's amazing."

John laughed, "Sounds like you've taken him under your wing,"

"He wants into the Unit," Jason said, "Twenty-two years old, two PhDs, working on a third and he wants to be in the BAU when he finishes at the Academy!"

"Maybe I'll get to meet him one day,"

"Maybe…" Jason paused. "You're getting ready to go on another hunt?"

"That profiling crap works over the phone too, huh?"

Jason laughed, "You're always getting ready for another hunt," he said. "Where are you going this time?"

"Small town," John said. "Called Jericho. They've got something haunting the roads out there, killing men. Looks like a hitchhiking spirit. I'll know more when I get there."

"Be careful,"

"I always am,"

"Call me whenever you finish it, alright?"

"Promise,"

And that was the last time Jason heard from John. Weeks went by and Jason finally called John, only to reach his voicemail. So he called Dean and that's when he heard that John was missing and Sam and him were trying to find him.

* * *

**VI.**

Sam and Dean didn't call Jason when they finally found their dad. Partly because Sam hardly knew Jason and didn't realize the extent of their relationship and partly because Dean figured it was his dad's business and if he didn't want to call Jason, then he wasn't going to either.

When they were in the hospital, John had held his phone in his hands numerous times, hovering over Jason's number, wondering if he should call or not.

In the end, he never did. He knew what he had to do to save his son and he knew that calling Jason would only make it that much harder. He couldn't face that pain, he wasn't ready for it.

* * *

**VII.**

Jason might never have heard the truth if Dean hadn't called him.

"Hey, Jason?"

"Dean? Have you heard from you dad? Is he alright?"

"Yeah, we, uh… we found him…"

"…What's wrong?"

"He's dead, Jason. He died."

* * *

**VIII.**

Eight months later, the team was in Lawrence, Kansas on a case. Jason was driving with another agent on the team, Hotchner, when they passed the cemetery and he couldn't help himself. He had to stop.

Hotch went with him to the grave and watched his face as he stared down at the name. His shoulders sagged and his eyes welled with bitter tears as he stood there, reading the name engraved there over and over, trying to make it seem real.

"John Winchester," Hotch said quietly glancing over at Jason, "Who was he?"

Jason took a breath and looked away from the grave,

"Somebody that I used to know,"

* * *

**-End-**

* * *

_You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness  
Like resignation to the end, always the end  
_Somebody That I Used to Know, -Gotye

* * *

**A/N: **Told you it was angsty and sad. Hope you liked it Beth!

Hope you guys enjoyed it too! And, well, I also hope you don't hate me *too* much for basically implying that Gideon's son dies since he obviously was one of the "chosen ones" …

I'm going to hell, aren't I?


End file.
